I Am Free
by rout-obsessie
Summary: A coda to 'To The Last Man', from Ianto's POV.


**I Am Free**

"_And I wouldn't change that for the world."_

Time seems to stop. I know I am still breathing but even that feels like it's paused. We are both waiting, waiting for something, for one of us to react. As I look at him I can feel the air tingle. It is filled with the smell of him, his scent filling my nose, invading every pore of my body. It's so warm. I can feel the heat caressing me, sliding up my chest, fingers of heat reaching up the line of my neck, stealing into my face.

Part of me is wondering what he means by that enigmatic statement. Part of me knows. It's a case of deciding which part to listen to. And once I have listened…how to act? He is looking at me, just as I am looking at him. The moment our gaze caught it was like a connection. The strength needed to break that connection I neither have nor desire. I can feel his eyes on me, looking further than the surface, really seeing me, the true me, the man behind the proverbial mask. He isn't expecting. Isn't demanding. Isn't praying or begging. He's waiting. I am free. Free to choose my own path, my own response. Without judgement. I can have what _I_ want.

I want him.

Maybe he wasn't expecting it. He doesn't really know me. Not yet. Maybe I moved too quick. Maybe he didn't know, couldn't understand the pull he has on me. I knew what I was going to do, right from the beginning. He didn't.

My hand is on the back of his neck, I suspect before he realises. My fingers spreading out, dipping beneath the warm collar of his shirt. As my mouth descends on his he seems to catch up with my intentions. His head jerks back minutely, angling to perfection as our mouths collide. Perfection. That's a good word for him. Physically, at least: I know he has scars, inside. But this - this magnificent dance, the heat, the joy, the freedom: this is perfection.

I need more. More touch. My free hand comes up, grasping his neck. Heightened senses allow me to feel the circular edge of his ear, soft against my fingertips. I can't resist brushing across them, my thumb stroking his jaw. I can feel the soft rumbling groan in this throat as my fingers caress his neck. I'm not sure who is warmer now, me or him.

I can feel his hand on my shoulder, drawing me close. I never expected him to want me like this before. I'm just me. No one special. And him…well he's him. Captain Harkness. The one, the only. But now is different. Now, it's just Jack. Me and Jack.

The warmth from his hand is seeping through my jacket as he rubs a soothing circle, moving his hand up, cupping my cheek. He is gentle, yet firm, telling me he wants this without trapping me. Not that I'd mind being trapped. Not right now.

His tongue stretches to swipe the top of my mouth and despite the already almost desperate need for oxygen, I gasp. I can feel the slight smile on his lips at my reaction. I repeat the action on him, my tongue delving into the depths of his mouth sweeping, tasting as I slide one hand down from his neck, letting my fingers run the exposed length before settling on his pulse, stroking and pressing slightly. It is my turn to smile as his fingers grasp me tighter and a small moan escapes into my mouth.

Lights begin to dance behind my closed eyes and my lungs are beginning to burn. Pulling back a fraction of an inch I gasp in air, watching with heavy eyelids as he does the same. His bottom lip trembles every time he draws in a breath, the tip of his tongue sweeping out to moisten it. Unconsciously, I dart my own tongue out to trace the same path taken by his. As I move my tongue softly over his mouth he parts his lips, sucking the tip of it gently into his mouth. It is soft and teasing and all I want to do is let my head roll back and loose myself in the sensations. But that would mean breaking contact.

Instead, I pull him into a bruising, passionate kiss, at the same time standing up straight pulling him with me. He stumbles slightly at the sudden movement, one hand going to the desk behind me to steady himself, the other grasping at my shoulder. I can feel every inch of him pressed up against me, his chest rising and falling, his hips pressing inwards, and the long, hard length of his cock trapped next to mine. I can feel a hand sliding from my hip, to the small of my back and round what it can reach of my arse and back again, each swipe increasing in pressure, bringing our hips crushing together before releasing the tension and repeating. A fleeting thought goes through my head that if someone were to walk in now they would see us rutting like animals against the desk, but the thought of discovery does not hold my attention as much as the increasing waves of ecstasy shooting through me.

Jack pulls back, his hands sliding up my arms to my neck. His beautiful face is flushed, his blue eyes sparkling. The thought flashes through my mind, causing my eyes to drift closed in pleasure: I did this to him. My hands, my lips, my burning, thrusting cock. Me.

He is looking at me intensely, asking without words. It seems that if I want something, tonight I will have to take it, grasp it for myself, not simply accept what is given. I know what I want.

I look towards the hole leading down to Jack's quarters before looking back and him and tilting my head in the direction of the ladder, asking, questioning. I know my eyebrow is raised, my secret weapon, he can never resist. The smile and nod of approval are all I need. Grasping his hand I lead him to the ladder, indicating he should go down first. When I get to the bottom, I find him there waiting for me. Taking his hand once more I pull him over to the bed, urging him to sit. He gasps as I fall to my knees in front of him.

I want to touch everywhere at once. With trembling fingers, I reach out and smooth my hands up his chest. Beneath the soft feel of the cotton and the buttons that catch on my hands I can feel the ripple of muscles as a breath catches in his throat, the waves of heat escaping from him. I try to look calm but I am far from that. My heart is racing, pounding in my ears. I can feel the heat from both of us making the air thick and tense.

Skin. Touch. I need to feel. My fingers slide beneath the braces, pulling them down before returning to fumble at the buttons running down the centre of his chest. The undoing of each one reveals the white t-shirt stretched taut over the muscles beneath. It's like unwrapping the many layers round a present. I should be frustrated. Should be emulating the child I used to be and tearing frantically at the layers desperate to get to the beauty within. But the closer I get to my 'present' the more revered my touch. I can tell from the look on his face that he enjoys my stroking fingers as I remove the t-shirt.

We kiss. Mirroring the kiss from earlier our hands stray to each other's neck, holding each other close. It starts slow, like we are re-learning each other. Which is silly. I know Jack, I know the planes of his muscles, the curves and angles, the feel of soft skin, of wiry hair. And he knows me, physically. But we know so little of each other further in. We know the outer shells not the stuff that lurks in the depths of ourselves, hiding. As I kiss him the indefinable, addictive taste of him fills my mouth, ensnaring my senses. I kiss him harder. His tongue is battling with mine, he is pushing against me, not to move me away but to get closer.

The sudden desire for more, more of everything, has me rising off my knees, pushing him hard back onto the bed and moving above him, on my hands and knees, drinking in the amazing sight of the man laid before me, his blue eyes like an open window to his soul. He wants this. He wants me to feel free…to trust him. I lean down close enough to let my breath feather across his lips, his hot breath mingling with mine. I move my trail of breath across his cheek, towards the soft shape of his ear. I can feel the shivers running through him as I blow gently on that sensitive spot. My eyes drift closed as I take a breath, preparing myself to let go.

"I need you," I whisper. My heart is hammering against my chest.

"You have me." The answer is a breath against my own ear.

With that admission I can feel the wave of engulfing desire that I have been holding in check breaks over me. My hips drop to grind against his, my lips dipping to devour his. It is wet and clumsy, teeth catching, biting, nipping. I can hear him groaning as our cocks rub together. Too many clothes. Too many layers. Not close enough. I sit back up and my hands fumble at his belt and flies. I can feel Jack's hands caressing my thighs, heat shooting through the cloth of my trousers. I get his trousers off, followed swiftly by boxers.

Pause. To me the moment stands still as I gaze down. This man. This image of beauty. He. Wants. Me. I can see it. His chest rises and falls deeply as I follow the movement and lower down to kiss the smooth skin. My tongue teases hard nipples. His hands come up and grasp my hips, fingers biting in. His head has arched back, tightening the muscle in his neck. I can't resist. My head moves up and my lips seal over the pulse thumping away in his neck. It's hard not to grin smugly at his strangled cry.

I let myself enjoy this time. Normally between us it is passionate, frantic, desire rolled in flames of heat. There is no time then to enjoy the simple feel of his skin, the shape of his thigh, to listen to his breathing, to watch his lip tremble as he fights to keep some semblance of control over his reactions. This time, however, I get to enjoy all of that. I can do whatever I want.

What I want….All of a sudden I want more. I stand. He shivers a little as I move away from him, the cool air of the room reaching his naked form. I smile inwardly as his body seems to involuntary raise to follow me before giving up and simply tracking me with his eyes. Standing I shrug the jacket from my shoulders, laying it carefully on the chair in the corner – there is always time to look after good quality tailoring. Shirt and tie follow quickly. Now we have got this far I cannot wait to be skin to skin with him. To feel the heat between us. To feel every inch of him pressing desperately against me. My breath catches in my throat as the images fill my mind, my fingers now fumbling frantically at the button on my trousers, jerking the zip down and pushing them roughly to the floor.

Damn! Almost landed on my face – forgot to take my shoes off. Must look like a right idiot. But he's still looking at me with desire and lust, even if there is a small soft smile lighting his face. I chuckle ruefully and sit on the edge of the bed to undo the laces, slip the shoes from my feet and slide my socks and trousers off. Jack rolls into the dip, wrapping himself around me, his hands sliding down my legs. Kisses flutter across my hip making my stomach clench with desire. Jack's foetal position around my back brings memories floating through my mind. I'm coming to realise that despite his larger-than-life exterior, the face he puts on is actually a mask. Not that all of him is a lie. In our private moments he is still confident, charismatic, overflowing with life. But there is another side to him that I am guessing very few people see. I have only seen glimpses, I suspect. It's in the moments after the heady rush of climax. The moments slick with sweat, the heavy sent of sex clinging to the heated air. The moments when he draws me into his arms and holds me. Or pushes his way into my embrace. There we stay, holding on. He wants this contact, this moment of peace. This softer side to him intrigues me.

But it's not a soft side to him that I can feel pushing into my back. He's holding back, I know he is. And he's doing it for me. Leaving the proverbial ball in my court. I don't want that though. That's like only having half of him. I want everything he can give me. I know there will still be parts that I can't have, just like the part of me that still loves Lisa will never be his. But that's the same in any relationship, why should we be any different?

I'm lying on top of him now, skin touching skin at last. Looking into his eyes, it's like seeing time spread out. He hides it well normally but now he is relaxed I can see all the ages he has lived through, all the ones he knows he will live through yet, swirling in the blue depths. His lips are stretching up to take mine in soft kiss, our tongues tangling gently, teeth grazing lightly, building the tempo slowly. I can feel the heat gathering between us once more. Jack's arms are around me, as if he wants to flip me over but he stays beneath me, letting me lead. Both our hands are gripping now, grasping at flesh, squeezing, caressing. One of my hands moves down to feel his cock, slipping behind and slick fingers that I don't remember coating slide inside him. His groans sink through me all the way to my toes. His voice has always had a strange power over me. The way he says my name, the way it can sparkle like song when he is happy, and weave itself into my senses when he speaks softly, the way it breaks my heart when he's suffering.

I don't linger over preparing him. One of the things I do know about him is that he likes being tight, and God, I never complain. I'm hovering above him, feeling like I'm waiting for some permission I know I already have. His eyes are telling me 'yes', but I still need to hear…something. Like he is reading my mind he tilts his chin up, straining his lips closer to mine, a whimper escaping, "Ianto…."

It's nothing and everything all at the same time. Such a small sound, but within it he is asking for the world. And I will give it to him, willingly, gladly. Pushing into him, tight, hot, our connection is completed as I lower my head to touch his lips.

And we are moving. Oh God. Pushing and pulling. Grasping, gripping. Moaning. Oh Lord, how does he do this to me? I feel so powerful, towering above him, taking him. He is like a masterpiece beneath me, his back arching, his eyes closed in ecstasy. Every time I thrust into him he trembles and clenches. Oh God, I do this to him. Me. I can feel everything and nothing. Muscles straining, burning. The hot, tight sweetness squeezing around my cock. The sweat running down my back, cooling in the air. At the same time I am aware of feeling nothing, nothing matters. My mind has gone too far into pleasure to comprehend the myriad of sensations. It's too much, too many…but not enough. So close.

Oh…..oh God. I feel like I am reaching for something. Stretching out, almost touching. So close….Jack. He's close, the rippling of muscles around my cock give it away. Oh sweet Lord, he's gorgeous like this. My fingers trailing lightly over the head of his leaking cock and my tongue thrusting into his mouth in time with the frantic thrusting of my cock are all he needs. With an animalistic growl that I feel rippling down to my toes he comes hard, all over his stomach and my fingers. His arse clamps tight around my cock and it takes every ouch of self-control I possess not to simply follow his into a glorious spiral of release. It would be so easy to give in. but I want him watching me as I spill inside him. I want him to see all of me, every part.

He's gasping as he comes down, his back relaxing, but his muscles still trembling slightly. I slow my thrusts slightly and move my hands to clasp his on the pillow near his head. My weight is pinning him down but the connection of our hand, fingers is intimate, close, fingers stroking and squeezing.

"Look at me, Jack." His eyes flutter open at my breathless whisper. "Watch me…watch me."

I don't mean to but I can feel my hips start to thrust harder as I speak. I want to be back at the edge, straining for release. Screw it. (And I am so lost in pleasure and want that only the tiniest part of my mind laughs at the pun.) I close my eyes and snap my hips forward, and again, and again…over and over, faster, harder. Oh God! Colours flare across the blackness I can't see. Flashes. Spikes. Spirals. All I want is to fall into one of those spirals, ride it to the end. Oh…..oh!

"Jack! Oh fuck…Jack!" My eyes snap open, staring into his. My hips freeze on an in-thrust and my fingers clench tight around his. The last thing I see as my vision goes blurry is him, Jack, looking up at me with desire-laden eyes. I'm rising and falling at the same time, spilling into him, my cry of his name morphing into a strangled moan.

I can feel his arms around me as I collapse down on top of him, both of us breathing hard. My lips seek out his neck, kissing and licking, thanking him. He knows, he always knows, and he is kissing my head in reply.

I love this man, though whether I will ever say the words to him I don't know. And he loves me. I don't expect him to say it. I don't even know if I want him to say it. All I know is that, lying here in his arms, sweat cooling on our bodies, I wouldn't change this for the world.


End file.
